One Morning
by Jayden Scott
Summary: Just some Closer fluff. Irene Daniels/Brenda Leigh Johnson. That's right, girl on girl lovin'.


Wrote this awhile ago... didn't realize I hadn't posted it here. Win.

Reviews are love.

Love me long and hard.

*******

"Have you seen my other black shoe?" Deputy Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson did not like being late. And that was how she felt this morning. Horribly, awfully, unforgivably behind schedule. If the power had not gone out last night, then the alarm would have sounded when it was supposed to. Also, had the power not gone out, the dryer would not have cut off in mid-cycle, leaving the clothes she planned to wear to work that day damp and wrinkled.

Although it had only offset her mental timeline for the morning by twenty minutes, Brenda still felt rushed. "My black shoe?" She called again. "The one with the square heel, not the pointy heel?"

"What?" The voice answered her over the sound of running water, muffled by the closed bathroom door.

Huffing in exasperation, Brenda threw open the bathroom door. "My shoe?" She held up one half of the pair pointedly. "I can only find one."

Irene blinked and straightened in front of the sink, toothbrush still in her mouth. She paused long enough to remove it before answering, "Did you check my side of the closet?" Her thick, raven hair was still disheveled from sleep and she hadn't even begun to shed the tank top and jogging pants she wore to sleep.

If there was one thing that Brenda did not understand about her lover, it was that no matter how late they were, Irene never appeared rushed. If they only had five minutes to be somewhere, and all Brenda had left to do was put on her shoes while Irene still had to pick out an outfit, get dressed, and put on makeup, Irene would still be ready first. In fact, she would most likely beat Brenda to the office by a solid ten minutes.

"No, why would it be on your side of the closet? It's my shoe." Brenda could not edge out the accusatory tone in her voice.

Irene sighed and evidently gave up on brushing her teeth. She spat and rinsed her mouth at before turning to face the harried deputy chief. "Because, when you fall asleep at night, I sneak into the closet and mix up our shoes to make your life difficult." The smile that graced her full lips was not teasing, but indulgent, which Brenda only found more infuriating.

"It is not funny, Irene. I've already gotten dressed and these are the only shoes that match this outfit." Brenda felt like stomping her foot, but decided against it.

"You kick off your shoes when you get home." Irene said, still smiling faintly. "I can't help that your side of the closet is… is... collective chaos."

That was, most decidedly, the wrong thing to say. Narrowing her eyes the way she did when she was interrogating a suspect, she spun around and stalked away, leaving her lover open-mouthed and speechless.

Despite her irritation, Brenda found herself following Irene's suggestion and crawled around on the bottom of the closet, rifling through pairs upon pairs of shoes to no avail. The missing shoe wasn't on either side of the closet, nor was it under the bed, sofa, or kitchen table. It was nowhere. Brenda gave up and stood in the doorway, giving their closet a final scrutinizing for the offending shoe.

In the almost-year they had been together, Irene had moved all of her clothes to Brenda's house. Irene maintained the lease on her apartment for appearances only; they lived together and had for nearly a year. Where Brenda's side of the closet was somewhat unkempt: blouses hanging next to skirts, sweaters mixed with jackets, shoes collectively piled on the floor, Irene's side was meticulously organized. Shoes were placed with their partners, blouses grouped by long and short sleeves, slacks separated from skirts.

If one looked at their bedroom, it was similar. Brenda's nightstand was cluttered with sticky notes, pens, the odd book, and the occasional candy wrapper. Irene's nightstand was void of anything except a lamp, an alarm clock, and, at night, her cell phone.

They were different people, Brenda thought as if it had only just now occurred to her. Irene was everything that Brenda wasn't: perpetually calm and rational. Brenda largely acted on emotion; not to say she didn't think about her actions, but how she felt always figured in significantly. Even when infuriated, Irene rarely raised her voice.

Irene knew the answers without ever being asked the question. Brenda had to be reminded several times what the question was before she could answer.

Brenda was innately suspicious, reluctant to change, and guarded. Irene was openly caring and easily adapted to circumstance.

Brenda was Irene's boss, which should have been a significant stumbling block to their relationship, but it hadn't been. Irene had been in love with her since Brenda had taken command of Priority Homicide, but cared too much to ever push at the boundaries of friendship. Brenda had been so caught up in convention and the security of normalcy to admit her attraction for the detective.

They were as different as black and white, literally as well as figuratively.

How they had ended up together was a happy calamity that had blossomed into romance which had given way to the blissful complacency of love and cohabitation. Staring at their closet, it had never been clearer to Brenda how fortunate they were to have one another, how lucky she was to have Irene.

They might be different. There was a laundry list of things that should have stood in the way of their relationship, but hadn't. Despite everything that might have stopped them, Irene was her lover.

Smiling, somewhat sadly, Brenda turned to apologize to her lover, only to find her already standing behind her. Lost in thought, she hadn't heard Irene approach or softly clear her throat.

Obviously losing the struggle against suppressing a grin, Irene triumphantly held up the missing shoe. "You were looking for this, I think?"

Unable to stifle a soft laugh, Brenda took the proffered shoe and held it up next to its mate which she still held in her opposite hand. "Where did you find it?" She asked, lifting her gaze to meet Irene's smile.

"In your dirty laundry hamper." Irene shrugged, as if that were a completely natural place to find a missing shoe.

"You found it." Shoes still in hand, she threw her arms around Irene's neck and hugged her tightly. Pulling her lover close, she buried her face in her neck and breathed in the faint scent of the perfume she wore, the distinctiveness of her skin, the perfection of Irene.

Stiffening in surprise, Irene hesitated a moment before returning the embrace, leaning back slightly to study Brenda's expression, trying to gauge the sudden shift in Brenda's mood. "It was hardly slaying a dragon or catching a bad guy, but if finding a shoe is all it takes to make you happy…"

"You found it." Brenda repeated, gently brushing her lips over Irene's, her eyes fluttering closed. "I knew you would." She said, silencing any words by pressing her mouth against her lover's, and kissing her ardently.


End file.
